reflections on ferguson

you have called down the thunder… and hell is coming with me
I know the history of black people in America. I hoped that my children would live in a different America than the one I grew up in.
I am sad that the lessons from the murder of Emmet Till, Medger Evers, Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, havent had a greater more positive impact on this country.

I have to ask myself if I did everything I needed to do to make dream a reality. Did I go along to get ahead? Was I distracted by bullshit? Did I compromise my beliefs to stay safe?

I ask the forgiveness of my children. For not doing more to make this world, this country safe for them.

I call the names of those who have gone before. Katherine! Selma! Maurice! Corrine! Philip! Easter! Henry! Jane! Jesse!

I summon those whose names were lost. those who fought to live. the the capture, the passage, the enslavement, the segregation!

I remind myself that I am the fruit of their labor. their hope and dream.

I will not give in to despair.

I will not accept anything less then the full expression of my humanity and full recognition of my citizenship.

the anger and hurt of this moment will fuel the change I am and will see in this country.